


The Dulled Edge

by Patherfind



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Death, Anxiety, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Guns, Hallucinations, Hunting, Murder, Pathfinder being the best, Rivalry, Shooting, sort of headcanons, this is just the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patherfind/pseuds/Patherfind
Summary: The adventures of Bloodhound, retired and revered legend of the Apex Games.They do a bit of soul searching and helping, using their skills to follow their set path.All is well until things take a darker turn, and they realize that what might have once been a blessing, is beginning to seem like a burden and a curse.(Title subject to change)





	1. From one hunt to another...

The Apex games were bloody and intense. A revived bloodsport of the olden times. Different times, those were. Many people bet money on it, sponsored legends in the making. There was a lot of controversy surrounding the games, surrounding the legends. Many were shamed, many praised. But there among them, were the ones shrouded in mystery. Nothing much was known about them. And the two that come to mind are generally the crowd favorites, being showered in sponsorships and admiration. 

Bloodhound was a very popular legend among the droves of viewers for the games. The mysterious hunter claimed to be ‘sent from the gods’. Whatever they said though, people focused on one thing. That they were the best hunter the systems had ever seen, how they gracefully and quickly dispatched large game, game that the toughest men would refuse to hunt. Bloodhound tracked and slaughtered these creatures with seemingly little effort. They respected the game, honoring it to the Allfather, as they put it. 

Their skills of hunting translated well into the games. They were a force to be reckoned with, being able to find their enemies quickly, and defeat them with little assistance from their squad. Them and their pet raven were cheered on by tens of thousands. 

The legend had won 8 games, a record set in the highest regard. They had lost no games, though they did not participate in all seasons. This was speculated to be due to their big hunts. Missions and traveling, in which they would be called upon to bring down a great beast. Bloodhound neither confirms nor denies these theories, however. Sightings of them outside of it were slim to none, and the rumors that spread around were mostly debunked as hoaxes, an attempt to build hype around the ruthless hunter/tracker that was Bloodhound. 

But, all of that was years ago. Bloodhound had supposedly made a lot of money off of the games, and was said to be riding off their burst of fame. Though they had not taken part in the past three games held, adoring fans still hoped for the day that the Hunter from the gods would step foot into King’s Canyon again.  
It was an odd thing, the mysterious legend, had left without saying a word about it to seemingly anyone. The record had been taken by another legend in the last event held, but people still held the former title holder to the regard of it. 

...

Bloodhound was simply, living off the grid. Mostly. They had traveled to another place for a while, avoiding all mentions of the games. The blood, the competition. They were fit for it. Made for the slaughter in the name of their brethren. But it was a lot to deal with. What came with the hunt, was what they were unprepared for. The fame, the money, the deals and sponsors they had to deal with. 

It compared nothing to the true hunt that they craved. The games had challenged them, but it was very different from the quietness. No, they did not miss it. The gunshots in the air echoing through the high mountain walls, the shells hitting the ground and splashing into blood. The cries of the game’s losers... They had only participated in the games as a placeholder for the hunt. The voice of the Allfather had been silent, awakening through the games and battlefield. But that was not what it is meant for. Their path had now led them away from it...

A flick of movement caught their eye, their gaze quickly targeting it. In the hunter's hands was an odd gun. It was different from the ones in the games. It appeared to be some sort of... Sniper rifle, shotgun hybrid. It looked standard enough, but definitely not a normal weapon. Nothing developed in a nearby system. It was laced with bits of the surrounding shrubbery, a form of camouflage that Bloodhound was accustomed to. Their grip tightened around the weapon for a moment, before they released the extra tension, letting out a breath that went unheard. 

They could hear it now. A steady thumping, approaching their position held in the vine-covered trees. The beast... 

If one were to be there, they might say that their eyes flashed red for a moment. Bloodhound nudged the device on their arm, vision morphing. Hunter vision, as they silently called it. Distorted... Black, white, grey. Crimson red.

Through the leaves. Bloodhound shifted silently, intently focusing on the approaching wave of red. There. Through the trees. A horn poked through nearby leaves. Another to the left. There. The beast of unruly power and strength. It, was there. Ready for the slaughter.

The bloodstained beast confidently strode into the small clearing. It had a hunched back, a mess of unkempt fur, spikes protruding and stained red. Large black claws. Claws that had taken many lives... Bloodhound would put it down. Their path had been led to the bounty of it. The creature, dubbed “the warhorn” would finally meet its end, it’s path intersecting with the Hunter’s.  
Bloodhound took aim, sight clear now. Only the red, the black soulless eyes of the beast...  
BANG!

The loud sound punctuated the ending of it. There was a stagger from the creature as it tried to register- But it was too late. It stumbled and fell to the ground with a large THUD, which shook the tree Bloodhound was standing on slightly. They remained perched, however.

In the distance, a raven cried out. Bloodhound looked up sharply as their vision returned to normal. From the sky fell a single, black feather. It gently flowed down, unimpeded... It landed on the matted pelt of the creature. The hunter remained steady and still, letting their breathing slow, then descended from their vantage point. They put their gun on their back, going to the side of the animal. They paid their respect to it, leaving it where it rested. They had no proof of their kill, other than the missing bullet in their chamber.

Bloodhound went to collect their prize. 

Usually a kill with no proof would result in their request for payment to be invalid, but the pub owner recognized the masked gatherer. Who wouldn’t. A few faces turned to them. Soft murmuring followed, chatter about who this man was. 

They quietly gave the news and waited. The man smiled after a moment of disbelief. They asked for a moment, then departed to the back room, surely to get the offered reward. A couple thousand in this planet’s currency. While Bloodhound wouldn’t have much use for the money for long, the people still deserved to know that they were safe now. Safe from the clutches of the Warhorn, an animal simply too big and vicious, ending many lives.

The man returned and held out three wads of cash out to Bloodhound, who’s expression was unknown. “Thanks.” They reply simply, nodding their head, then turning to leave.  
As they walked out, they could hear the man shout something. Cheering erupted and the normal conversational volume of the establishment returned. 

Bloodhound was gone the next day, not one person in the village could thank them for their hard work. Off to the next Big Hunt, they assumed. In a way, they were right.


	2. The Hunter’s calling...

Being preoccupied, Bloodhound had distanced themself from the games over time, not much news being able to reach them on the far off planets they traveled to anyways. There, they chased their true game. Beasts, murderers, fulfilling bounties and remaining alone. 

Though, one shred of it did manage to reach them. It was something regarding an anniversary for the game. It... Was a summon sent, requesting the return of old and revered legends to meet up. Have one last match, perhaps. Or, just to simply mingle and see familiar faces. 

It was only by chance that Bloodhound had received the news. Unlike most others that partook in the legendary event, they were quite hard to find in all senses of the word. They were never in the same place. Hence why they were shocked that they had been given this. 

It had been a storming night, a powerful electric storm that raged on into the night. Bloodhound had taken a temporary retreat into the village lodging, only to escape the storm (as the preferred staying in the wilderness, even off jobs). The booming in the sky made it difficult for the hunter to keep their cool.

-

The one time they were locateable, the message had been delivered to them. And none other than by a disgruntled looking mail bot, it bore a device with a screen in its mail bag. They took out the screen and held it up so the resting hunter could see the surface. On it played the message.

_“Champion! Your presence is requested in celebration of the Apex Games’ 30th anniversary gala._  
Many other legends will be there.  
You, Bloodhound, are being welcomed as a guest of honor. Please consider coming to King’s Canyon Facility in 21 days time. Hour 1905.” 

It was a simple message, quick and to the point. Bloodhound thanked the mail bot, who seemed relieved to have finally tracked down the hunter, somehow. 

Thinking about it made them feel an uneasy sinking in their stomach, but that was the bloodsport for you. Their one time of... Well, the least alone they had been in a while. Their ravens did not count much as company, after all.  
The event, though.

They took a few moments to let the message settle in. Perhaps they had slightly lost track of time. The Game was held, maybe, four times a year..? It was a brutal thing, really... Their wins were almost unrivaled. They could safely assume though, that it wouldn’t just be Champions who had scored multiple wins. Most won one and were done.  
The drawing wouldn’t be very large if the former were the case. 

Bloodhound... Didn’t really want to attend, if they were honest with themself. To go and see others, who they might have almost killed in the ring? People who had stared into the glowing eyes of the hunter. Those who had survived them, when they had been merciful.

Even their squadmates, ones who had seen the monster beneath the many layers that they wore (figuratively, of course)...  
It brought back the memories they had buried beneath dust and blood and sinew. Terror... Fear, pain, blood. Such an event... 

There were, of course, upsides to this all. There were always their teammates that had remained loyal and stuck with Bloodhound, those who they had exchanged life-savings with. 

Some part of the Tracker spoke of them not showing, because, who would go to such a thing... Perhaps a few of them would show, however. 

It would most certainly be a catalyst for the ravens to charge at and taunt them. Show them of the enemies who would soon descend and kill the hunter if they did not put forth their full effort.

Bloodhound did not want to go, not really. But they were not the ones in charge of destiny. They merely acted upon the will of the gods wordlessly, silently and with a knife in hand. A gun, in this case. The case of the Apex Games. The Beast of the Hunt would...

...

Before they knew it, time had passed. Three weeks, to be exact. Bloodhound stood, observing the facility they had come to be familiar with in their eight visits. This would be their ninth. People were meandering to and fro the building already.  
They appeared to be other legends, or perhaps fans that had caught wind of the event and were being turned away at the door by a few tough looking guards.

 

With quick, guided steps, the Hunter emerged from their vantage point on top of a small hill, and strode to the door, arms pressed against their sides firmly as they went. 

The noise of contestants could be heard from inside. Chatter, laughter. Nothing of violence rang, but they believed that that could change at the drop of a dime. 

As they approached, the guards simply nodded to them and held the door. They glanced to them and gave a slight bow, before entering the building. It was warm, there had to be around 50 people in the building, Bloodhound sensed as they looked around. 

The others seemed to also be wearing whatever they had worn to the ring. Some were vaguely familiar, while some were completely unknown to the hunter, which made sense because of their lack of involvement in the later games. There were certainly many oddities here, the likes of which confused the hunter. One who seemed to specialize in flashy explosives, a loud one, one which had... a electrical powers? Quite a few masked ones.

They took in a heavy breath and let it out slowly, crossing their arms as they slowly made their way about, doing their best to avoid detection. However, there were not simply shrubs and grass blades for them to hide in. Their heavy apparel drew glances, both of recognition, and something a mix of annoyance and a grimace. 

The hunter felt the gazes on them, though outwardly they looked unphased. Their expressions were usually hard to read, if they weren’t using hand gestures, or speaking in a very toned voice (which they couldn’t be understood in anyways, most of the time if they were not speaking clearly). 

Bloodhound gave a small wave in the general direction of the staring crowd, feeling a bit nervous about it, but their movement was small and deliberate. 

They didn’t wait to see the reaction to this, crossing their arms again and finding a wall to lean against, partaking in people watching for now.

The event didn’t seem to be very organized... Or, it had just begun. Afterall, it was still around ten minutes until the specified time. It seems that the champion squads were mostly early birds. The rest would file in soon, or not show at all.

Though, Bloodhound was mostly looking for any other familiar faces. 

_Clank, clank, clank._ The signature unstealthy footsteps were approaching, slightly louder and more noticeable than the barrage of noise on all sides.  
Bloodhound turned their head to look in the direction. A blue and yellow robot, with a singular ‘eye’ and a screen on their chest was approaching. He had to be almost eight feet tall. 

The screen displayed on them had a bright yellow smiley face, which brought back a memory of course, this was one of their former teammates. Pathfinder, their codename, was one of their squadmates in the final game they had participated in.

“Hello, friend Bloodhunter.” The cheery bot greeted as they approached. Bloodhound watched them walk up, giving another wave. “Hello, felagi fighter.” Bloodhound gave one of their traditional greetings. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” :)

Bloodhound merely nodded, straightening their posture, but still standing against the wall in a casual manner.  
“It’s nice to see you though, Bloodhound.” Pathfinder continued, correctly guessing that their stoic former teammate didn’t have much else to say. “This place is full of winners.” He explained, for no other reason than trying to be overly helpful. 

“Indeed.” Bloodhound agreed, eyeing the rest of the champions, who were thankfully distracted again by their own allies, probably relishing in their victories and chatting up what they had been up to between games.

“I wonder if this is what it seems to be.” Pathfinder said with a questioning tone to Bloodhound, standing a bit closer now. More people were showing up now, and it was about time. Two minutes until the main event now.

Surely there was something planned. Something that had to do with all who they had gathered in one spot. Again, it made them feel uneasy.

**CAW!**

Bloodhound visibly twitched at that and started looking around. Pathfinder seemed to notice this, a confused emotion being displayed upon their screen. “Friend? Is something the matter?” He asked, tilting their head a bit.

There, standing atop one of the concession tables, a raven with beady black eyes. It stared off blankly, before turning its attention to Bloodhound. It let out another caw, but no one around seemed to be able to hear it.  
The tracker put out their hand--

**”Apex legends! Thank you all for coming to this event, a celebration of the thirtieth Apex Game!”** A loud voice boomed overhead. Cheers and shouting erupted from the torrents of murderers.

Quoth the raven, nothing, as it seemed to implode into black smoke and ethereal feathers, before fading from sight.

 **“You all have done something spectacular. You have triumphed over countless others and gained victory, whether this was achieved once, or multiple times. That being said, you are all, truly, the best of the best. You are the Apex Predators of the galaxies. Your presence is much appreciated.”** The voice was feminine. Apex predator, huh?... It did suit the hunter, they had to admit.

Pathfinder was simply listening and hoping, the default happy face being shown on their chest. 

**“For this event, we are asking something that was never thought possible. Something very special.”** A quietness swept over everyone, the voice setting forth a silence that longed to be broken... 

Of course, everyone knew what was happening now. Even Pathfinder seemed a bit nervous, though that was only the Hunter’s brief reading of them.

 **“An Apex Game of epic proportions. An Apex Game made up of, you guessed it. Only former Champions. Hunters, coming together to hunt one another. To determine the true Apex Legend(s).”** Though the talking seemed to be done... 

It continued despite murmuring among the crowd. Clearly this was another way for the bloodsport to rake in more money. Throw the favorites into the rink together and watch the fans flail and fumble to sponsor the legends. **“It will be larger than any other game ever hosted. Over the standard amount of people. And the limit on a squad will be increased to four for this Champion exclusive game.”**...

Four teammates seemed like it would be... Overwhelming. It would quickly become a bloodbath, any connotations of stealth that it once had were quickly dissolving. It would present a challenge. And depending on who they get squaded with...

...Participation wasn’t a requirement, correct? Bloodhound knew they were capable of it, but they were retired from the senseless slaughter. Part of them advocated against it. But the stronger half of them, the hunter, knew that this was simply a trial from the Allfather. 

They would accept it.  
Bloodhound grimaced beneath their gear, then focused on their former teammate. Any sign of a negative emotion was gone. “Friend,” He began, looking to the Technological Tracker. 

 

“Will you be joining? We could be squadmates again.” They were practically beaming, encouraging the hunter preemptively with a thumbs up.

The Hunter stayed silent for a moment. Such a summoning was a clear sign from the Allfather. The raven had only confirmed it. This was their chosen path. 

**”Registration stations are located in the usual places. You know where they are, champs. May the odds be ever in your favor.”** The former professionalism was toned down as the overhead voice finally shut off.

Bloodhound pushed themself from the wall and nodded to the bot, before starting to weave through the flowing crowd. They signalled for Pathfinder to follow, who did almost instantly, remembering it from their game together, a stealthy thing Bloodhound had tried to teach the grapple-claw slinging robot.  
“Let’s win again then, friend.” They said to Bloodhound in a flat, but somehow cheerful voice, as if lives were not on the line. 

Hopefully it would end as their companion saw it.


End file.
